The Bloodbath
by P2tbAnimeGirl
Summary: Why some run in while others run away. It's a choice all tributes make. Whether it's right or wrong no one knows until it's too late. Multiple POV. Takes place during 74th Hunger Games.
1. District 1: Marvel

Warning: Violence.

A/N: A huge "Thank you" to **hallelujahsunrise** for being an awesome Beta!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games or any character created and owned by Suzanne Collins.

**Blood Bath**

District 1: Marvel

I eagerly await the gong that signifies the deactivation of the mines scattered around my feet. I want to get this show started. I can see the wondrous arsenal of a gift the Gamemakers have provided us with. I'm pleased and edgy, waiting to get my hands on the glistening silver. The rest of the supplies aren't a concern, and I don't waste my energy thinking about them.

They want a show, a real gut spilling opening. I'm in the mood to provide it. The minute between me and the real fight is an eternity.

Finally, the gong rings and I'm off. I'm fast, the fastest from my training group back home. I was selected for a reason and I'm beginning to see it. I am strong and I am fast, and that's all that matters.

For a moment there I hesitate before going for the dagger. I'm familiar and comfortable with it. The weight is perfectly balanced in my hand. I can always claim the spear later.

The other tributes are arriving now. They frantically grab the closest things to them. Backpacks and any kind of weapon they can get their hands on. They get what they came for and then run back out into the open. They know it's not safe to stay.

The other careers have arrived too. But unlike the other tributes around us, they don't waste their time with the other supplies. They go straight for their weapon of choice.

I grip the handle of the dagger tightly before running back out into the fray.

The other tributes are all worn down by their own burdens, backpacks and supplies weighing them down as they run. I'm free of such burden and quickly catch up to the runners.

I grab a boy by the back of his jacket, pull him back with brute strength, and then slit his throat.

At first, I'm slightly horrified. This is nothing like training, nothing I was prepared for. The dummies never bleed. But then I remember where I am. I remember my honor. There is no room for such thoughts.

I drop the boy as he gurgles blood. I turn him over, my fist gripping the fabric of his zipped jacket, and stab him again and again. All vital organs to end him as quickly as possible.

After, I don't care how long he lasts, I know he's a goner, and I move onto the next one.


	2. District 1: Glimmer

District 1: Glimmer

At first I wanted to run in as the rest of the alliance had discussed. But in that moment, looking around at the other tributes, I began to have second thoughts. I knew I wasn't the fastest or the strongest of the Careers, but I began to wonder about the others as I remember the scores and our three days of training.

That boy from District 11, Thresh, had refused to join us. He's a danger. A threat, and could easily beat me in a fight. He's one to avoid. Looking over at him, seeing how he's positioned to run right in, frightens me. The boy from District 12 is another one to worry about. His strength clearly out matches my own. It's clear he held back in training, I wonder what else he's capable of. But he doesn't look prepared to run in.

The gong suddenly rings out and I hesitate another moment before running in. Turns out, even with the others getting a head start, I'm not nearly as fast as I had thought. I grab a girl by the pony-tail as I close in on her, pulling her in and then throwing her out to knock her off balance as she runs. She trips and stumbles on the ground as I run ahead of her.

I'm not one for playing fair. I'm prepared to do anything to get the upper hand. I'm in this to win it.

The other careers have already left the Cornucopia by the time I arrive. I pass them on their way out. I'm faced with another decision, which weapon to take. I choose a sword, easy enough to use, and then run back out into the chaos.

The first person I run into is another female tribute. An unarmed tribute at that. I blindly swing at her with the heavy object in my hand. I manage to hit her shoulder, but she continued to run past, gripping the bloody wound as she ran.

I turned to follow, but decided that someone else could finish her off. No need in wasting energy chasing the tributes around.

The next one to come foolishly close, I pounce on. I tackle them to the ground where I know they would be helpless and unable to run. My knees dig into their diaphragm, making breathing difficult for them. I look upon the tribute's face and see the fear in the eyes of the girl I thought was from District 7. Her lips are trembling, trying to form the words that beg me not to kill her.

I stab her repeatedly with the tip of the sword. I don't stop until I'm sure she's dead


	3. District 2: Cato

District 2: Cato

I use the only minute I have to analyze the Cornucopia. I look for weapons especially. Everything else I can focus on at another time; it doesn't matter as long I see the weapons.

I'm pleased, this year they really went crazy. Daggers, spears, swords, axes, and archery equipment. They gave us the good stuff, real deadly weapons that will get the job done. None of that bludgeon crap from previous years.

They want a show after all; a real bloody opening to kick off the games, and I'm ready. This is what I was prepared for and trained for. I'm chosen to bring honor and glory to my district.

The minute is up, I run with the others. Marvel is the fastest, running miles ahead of us all. Others around me are stopping to pick up the smaller prizes scattered about at our feet. I go out of my way to give these kids a good kick as I pass. Others have already reached the Cornucopia, but I don't worry too much as I see Clove with a fist full of throwing knives. I know she won't let me miss out on the fun.

Once I reach the Cornucopia, I grab the first sword I see and then run back out. This is my chance to prove myself to the nation. My chance to show sponsors that what I'm capable of. Another chance for my district to shine.

My first target by chance is that boy from District 6, the one who stole my knife and made a fool of me in training. I catch up to him as he's running into the Cornucopia. With a swift movement I have him on his back, completely helpless on the ground. I stand over him and slash away. Blood spatters up with every swing. The boy screams, kicks and throws his arms up in a useless effort of defense. I'm bigger and stronger though and keep him down with the heel of my foot digging into his open stomach.

Another boy tries to run past me.

I know that this boy is just about dead; he's stopped moving and screaming at least. I'm lucky with the second one. I twist my torso and thrust my sword, piercing him in the chest. This one doesn't scream, he just drops everything in his hands.

Blood drips down the blade and onto my hand from the upward motion of the sword. It's warm and sticky, but I'm not bothered by it. With a swift yank, the sword is freed from his chest. The boy collapses; the quickest death so far.

I'm not disappointed. There are plenty of others to play with.


	4. District 2: Clove

District 2: Clove

My mentor advised me to go for it. She had confidence in my speed. She said as long as they provide daggers I should do well in the first of many battles. The Bloodbath.

They were there, alright. Packed in an open case and laying out in the open. The sun's rays gleaming off them. They were waiting specifically for me. They were mine.

It isn't just about the killing though. It's about opportunity. A chance to prove myself to everybody. To my district and to the wealthy sponsors.

The gong sounded and I raced for them. I might be small, but I'm built for speed. Marvel beat me there by mere seconds, but it didn't matter since they were mine. I ripped them from their case, lining them up in my hand. It felt so natural having them there. I felt complete.

I ran back out into the open as the swarm of tributes caught up. My arm was raised and I was ready for a target.

The first person I spotted was that District 12 girl as she struggled with another tribute over a backpack. She clearly didn't understand the fundamentals of the Blood Bath. Weapons first and then supplies. How she managed to get such a high score was beyond me.

I took aim and threw perfectly. The moment the knife left my finger and glided through the air I knew I had managed my first kill.

Except the boy shifted to the side, unknowingly shielding that stupid girl and earning a knife in the back where his left lung should be.

Though I was pleased with the kill, I was frustrated that it hadn't been my initial target. Running closer, I grabbed another knife and prepared. In that split second, the girl looked up and saw me. Her eyes like a deer's. She was sitting on the ground, stunned at the dying boy in front of her.

_Weakling_, I thought as the second knife left my hand.

She seemed to regain her senses at the exact same time. She moved again and by sheer luck managed to avoid death a second time as my knife lodged itself into the orange backpack. She stumbled to her feet, swung the bag over her shoulders and ran for the safety of the forest.

I would've pursued, but didn't feel like wasting another knife. I was fast and could've caught up to her, but why waste my energy?

There was plenty of fun to be had here. I could always find her later.


	5. District 3: Male

District 3: Male

My heart is already racing. I can't control it. One minute to go, until it all goes downhill. I'm frightened to the core.

My thoughts linger on my older brother. At first, during the reaping, I was angry with him. He didn't volunteer when my name was called. He didn't even look at me as I cried his name while the peacemakers dragged me to the stage. He's the _big_ brother. He was supposed to protect me. I guess family ties only go so far.

Now, standing here on the podium mere seconds before hell itself is unleashed, I'm not as angry. I remember his remarks from previous games, back when this was all just a distant horror show on the family television. Except now I'm living in it and his remarks are all I have.

He told me that they, the tributes of District 3, should've run away during the Blood Bath. That they shouldn't have gotten involved. He said that there was nothing in the Cornucopia worth risking your life over. And, because of where we come from, if you can't make it then and only then do you try to steal it.

I took his advice to heart. My entire strategy for the next several hours is based upon his words. When the gong rings, I'll run for the cover of the surrounding forest.

But I don't plan on running around the forest entirely empty handed either. I'll run away and return for supplies when the Careers go hunting tonight. I know that this is their strategy, I sat next to them during training. I heard all of their whispered secrets. I know they're not going to leave the camp unguarded, but I'll have a better chance of slipping in when night falls.

I know my limits after all. I'm not strong. I'm not fast. But I am smart.

For now, when the gong finally rings, I'll just run.


	6. District 3: Female

District 3: Female

Every year they take their tributes. Some choose to go while others are forced. I fall into the second of the two categories there.

I've never know them personally – the other tributes from my District that is. The Games always seemed so far away. A looming danger but not attached to me.

Twenty-four go in and only one comes out. The victor is glorified, celebrated and honored. The other twenty-three tributes, the ones that die, they're all forgotten. And I'm already forgettable. District 12 dominated the parade. I stuttered through my interview, and I stumbled during training, earning me a score of three.

I look at the other twenty-three tributes around me. I can't out run them, I'm not fast. I can't fight them off, I'm not strong. I can't even out-live them because I don't know how to survive in a forest.

The odds are not in my favor. I know the facts-I know what my odds are. I've given up before it's even started.

The gong rings and I run for the Cornucopia. I don't know why I'm bothering to try. I know I'm going to get myself killed but some part of me wants to put up a fight.

As I run I decide to grab for the smaller prizes scatted a good distance from the Cornucopia. I spot a loaf of bread just sitting there and I go for it.

I'm not the only tribute who had their eyes on the bread though. Another tribute, a boy from some other District that I can't remember, grabs the loaf at the same time as me.

Our eyes meet. He pulls in his direction and I stumble a bit before getting better footing. I don't let go. I don't want to lose this prize. This boy is obviously stronger than me; he can fend for himself in getting the bigger prizes closer to the Cornucopia. I just want the bread.

I kick him in the shin as he pulls again. He doesn't let go either. This is taking too long and the plastic is beginning to rip. I remove one hand from the plastic and swing at him with a dramatic movement. My fist connects with his jaw and he releases his hold on the bread immediately.

I'm feeling slightly victorious as I watch him stumble backwards. I don't waste too much time watching though. I take advantage of his weakness to continue running and collecting.

I absorb myself in grabbing all I can get. Plastic sheets, a pair of socks, a zip-lock bag, a bag of pretzels. I don't realize how close to the Cornucopia I am until I look up and see a black backpack just sitting there in front of me.

I look around, seeing the horrors of the Blood Bath as the Careers and other tributes try to kill each other. I'm unnoticed at the moment. I can't believe my luck. Greed overcomes me and I grab the bag, throw it over my shoulder, and then run for the mouth of the Cornucopia. I want a knife before I leave.

My arms are full, too full in fact. I don't run as fast for fear of dropping something important. There is another tribute in front of me, but his back is still turned. He's looking around frantically, trying to detect when the next threat approaches.

I slip around him, positive he hasn't seen me. Only he has and I just don't know it yet.

One minute I'm reaching for a knife out in front of me while balancing my treasures in my free arm. The next, I'm being pulled backwards by a strong hand around my stomach.

I manage to scream before he slices open my chest


	7. District 4: Male

District 4: Male

I volunteered but now I'm starting to have second thoughts. It was great in the beginning. Eating whatever I wanted, being pampered by the prep team, showing off in training, the fame and the glory from the Capitol. All of it was great. Nothing like the treatment I received at home. After all, my designated job was Deckhand. Nothing special about that. But when I volunteered, I became special. I became a somebody.

It's only now that I'm starting to regret it. Looking around me, seeing the faces of the other twenty-three tributes, I'm worried I'm not as strong or as fast as I thought I was. Back home, during a private class, my instructor warned me not to be so full of myself. I know I didn't listen.

I'm afraid. I'm doubtful, I don't think I can do this. I'm part of an alliance, but I know they don't have my back. They could easily turn on me if they find me too weak.

The gong rings and I take off running. Mission number one: get a weapon before everyone else.

The others are so much faster, I was right about that. Some of the other tributes are already running ahead of me. I sprint, desperate not to be the last to arrive.

By the time I arrive, I'm out of breath and everything burns from the effort. But I push through, gasping for breath as I grab a spear.

There is a boy next to me, trying to reach over a crate to grab one of the axes. Taking advantage of this, I thrust the spear at him. Except he sees me and reacts accordingly.

With a jump, he creates more space between him and the spear. Then he reaches out, grasps the spear just before the blade, and shoves the butt of the handle into my diaphragm.

I thought that gasping for air after running was painful. I was wrong. Gasping for air because I really can't breathe after having someone knock the wind out of me is far more painful. It burns my lungs and leaves me vulnerable as I stagger backwards and almost tumble to the ground.

This is enough time for the other tribute to make his move. He takes the spear from my grasp, flips it so that the blade faces me, and then stabs me just above my right lung. I cry out from the pain as he rips the cold metal from my wound.

I fall to the ground, my hand clasped over the wound to try and keep the blood from flowing. The red liquid that preserves my life is slipping through my fingers. My thoughts begin to cloud as I start to realize how much blood I'm lousing.

I don't want to die. I'm not dead yet. I can still fight. I just have to get up. Where are the others when I need them?

The other tribute clearly realizes that I'm still alive. Still gripping the spear in his hand, he raises it in preparation. We make eye contact for a brief moment. I can see he's hesitant. But he wants to live too.

He brings the spear down, stabbing me in the lung just below my other wound. He pulls it out with a jerk, making the wound bigger.

The tribute ignores me now as he focuses on getting the axe now and abandons the blood coated spear. He grabs a backpack while I continue to struggle to breathe.

I struggle to hang onto life. I don't want to let go.

Unfortunately it isn't a choice for me to make.


	8. District 4: Female

District 4: Female

I was trained to fight from the time I could walk and talk. I was advised on how to win in the Cornucopia blood bath. Taught how to kill those weaker than myself within those first minutes of the games. I was told to never hesitate. I was taught how important it is to set a good example, to show the viewers all over the nation what I was capable of.

But my mentor had a different approach. He said to run in like any other career, but grab the necessary supplies and run. Stash them somewhere safe and then return. That way I would be prepared if the alliance went sour. I liked his plan better.

I ran to the Cornucopia like the rest of the tributes. But instead of grabbing the first weapon I saw, I grabbed a red backpack first and then one of the many daggers.

I didn't linger. I ran from the Cornucopia, the red backpack and the dagger the only things in my hands. I ran and ran, weaving between the battling tributes, and eventually stopping at the edge of the forest to see what the bag contained.

I frowned, disappointed and frustrated. No food, no rope, no camp supplies. Only clothes and another dagger. But mostly stupid clothes. Better than nothing but still just as worthless. I quickly threw the bag behind a bush, the second dagger still inside in case I lost my first. I then ran back towards the Cornucopia.

Everyone was in the middle of fighting now. The other careers were on a killing spree while a few lucky tributes managed to slip past them. While they ran for the safety of the forest, I ran towards the chaos of the blood bath.

As a male tribute passed I swiftly stabbed him in the ribs. I pulled the dagger out as I continued to run past. I didn't look back.

The tribute is as good as dead and I'm eager to get more action before the other careers do.


	9. District 5: Male

District 5 Male:

I have watched it happen thirteen times. Each year without fail. The "Blood Bath" as most have come to call it. An all-out brawl for a better chance at survival.

It's the first thing they warn you about – the mentors that is. They say you shouldn't risk it. They tell you that the others are stronger and faster. They say it's smarter to run, that you'll be better off.

But they don't understand. This place is a forest, a harsh and foreign environment. District 5 is a concrete jungle, all wildlife has perished from our District's energy production. Power plants, solar panels, and nuclear energy facilities cover our landscape. Not even weeds grow between the cracks in the sidewalks. The tributes from the poorer Districts, the ones with barren wild wastelands that stretch on as far as the eye can see, they have the upper hand now. They know how to make do with so little.

If I don't grab something it'll surely be the death of me. To risk my life now or to surely die latter. Is it worth the gamble? Five seconds to choose; run in or away.

I think of my family. My brother would've risked it. But he's built stronger than me, gifted with a more athletic body. He could make it, maybe I can too.

The gong rings. I choose risk over safety. I take off, sprinting for the bounty waiting in front of us all.

Chaos erupts.

The first to arrive, the quickest of the 24, are already hitting and shoving each other. None have reached the weapons yet, but everyone is doing everything in their power to get the upper hand.

I reach a loaf of bread at the same time a female tribute dose. I pull, jerking it in my direction as I try to shake her grasp. She has an iron grip and kicks me in the shin. I ignore the pain and pull again. The plastic begins to rip now. She clocks me in the jaw with her other hand. I let go immediately; stars clouding my vision as I stumble away from the girl.

I run up and into the Cornucopia after I catch my senses. The others have weapons now, but I refuse to leave empty handed. I know it's now or never. I grab a sickle, the first weapon I reach.

Someone comes up behind me; I whirl around weapon raised and ready. It's the same girl from the bread. She has a backpack now, and is struggling to keep her loose supplies in her hands, but no weapon. I'm still angry with her.

As she runs in front of me, I grab her from behind and slash her chest open. She screams, dropping everything in her hands as a warm spray of blood comes from her wound. I scream as well, horrified. But I tighten my grip on the crimson stained weapon. I leave her, supplies scattered around her, and run as I grab the black bag from her. My last sight of her is her laying there on the ground with a trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth, eyes wide open yet no longer seeing.

I run back out into the open. People are fighting now, a classic bloodbath scene. Except now I'm a part of it. Adrenaline races through my veins. I'm almost free, almost away from the group but still far from the forest. If I can make it past the others I know I'll be free because they won't want to follow just yet.

But one of the other careers, a boy from District two, drops his dead victim and jabs his sword at me as I run past. I'm running too fast to react, I hit his blade. He pierces me in the lungs through the gap in my ribs.

I know it's over as my vision begins to fade.

I made a gamble. I risked my life and so I lost it.


	10. District 5: Foxface

District 5: Foxface

I'm watching the faces of those around me. Some look like scared animals. Others look excited, positioned and ready to go the moment the games start. I try my best to look indifferent. Despite this, I know my fear is displayed on my face. It's the tension in the air that's getting to me. The knowing of what is about to unfold here within seconds. I don't want to be _here_ when it happens.

When the gong rings I know where I'm going. Away. As far away as I can get. I have no intention of running into the brewing chaos in this area.

I already have my strategy. I know I can't fight. But I'm confident that I can out-last the competition. I spent my three days of Capitol provided training wisely. I choose to memorize information on edible vegetation, how to get water from roots, and how to preserve meats. I choose to train in stealth over fighting. I was clever; knowing that there was no way the Gamemakers would throw me into an urban environment like District 5.

The gong rings and I bee line for the forest. I'm running as fast as I can. I'm running into the death trap the game makers prepared, but it is better than what is about to occur behind me.

Screams erupt through the air behind me as I enter the foliage. The bloodbath has started. I don't look. I don't want to see the sights that compliment what I'm hearing. I just keep running.

A tribute passes me in the distance; they're running at an angle. I stop abruptly and change directions before he sees me. I don't want any confrontation.

Something red catches my eye. I give myself a moment to look. It's not an edible plant like I had thought, but a backpack. Black and red, and just sitting there half hidden in the bush. Did the Gamemakers leave it there? Why place it so close to the Cornucopia though? Did it somehow fall off the hovercraft? No. The Gamemakers go out of their way to make sure everything is perfect and according to their plans.

Taking extra precaution, I look around once more. Nobody in sight. Only the fools fighting in the Cornucopia up ahead. I open the bag.

Inside are clothes. Extra pants, a pair of socks, and a neon orange t-shirt. But, most valuable of all, tangled within the neon shirt is a knife. A hunter's knife with a smooth blade on one side and a jagged edge on the other.

I take it from the bag, place it carefully within my coat pocket, and then throw it back into place. The knife is all I'll need.

And then I'm running again. Only now I know the odds are more in my favor.


	11. District 6: Male

District 6: Male

My mentor told me not to, but what does he know? He's a morphling addict. His opinion hasn't helped me yet. He told me to be bold in the interview; I know I sounded like an idiot instead. He told me to give it my all for the game makers and they still only gave me a 5. He hasn't helped me at all. I bet he's popping those stupid pills instead of sweet talking the rich sponsors right now. He's already left me to die.

So why take his advice again? I don't care what the game makers think, I still consider the risk. The bounty in front of us all is so tempting. Food, clothing, backpacks filled with supplies, and weapons. All just sitting there, laid out in the open and just waiting. _Waiting for me_.

I look at the arena the game makers dumped us in. An open field for the Cornucopia, a lake, and a forest. Only now do I realize how stupid I was during training. I focused on handling weapons and completely neglected survival skills. I know how to make a fire, but tying knots and finding natural plants to eat are another story. I'm going to need the food in there.

The countdown ends and I run. Not away like my mentor advised, but towards the Cornucopia. My needs outweigh those of my mentor who now sits in safety in front of some television. He isn't the one who'll need to survive.

The world erupts into chaos as everyone begins running. Some go off in other directions, the rest are in the same race as me. Faces blur as they run past. I'm not sure if this is because I'm not familiar with them, they're running so fast, or if my mind isn't focusing on them.

I don't care, I just run.

I'm running as fast as my legs will take me. I'm trying to keep up with the group, but they're all ahead of me. I'm not the fastest. I try to force myself to run faster, I must get there before it's all gone, but my lungs only burn more. I'm not going to get there in time.

I'm approaching the entrance of the Cornucopia now. But everyone else is already leaving. A boy stands in my path ahead, a sword in his hand. I recognize him as that boy from District 2, Cato. Fear catches in my throat as I make eye contact.

Cato lunges forward, sprinting in my direction. I skid along the grass as I try to change direction. I'm aware of how heavy my breathing is now. It hurts and my legs feel like they're on fire now. But I make myself run, the fear of death and adrenaline beginning to take over.

Suddenly, something catches my legs and I'm falling face first into the ground. I'm terrified now. I hit the ground with a hard thud, knocking the wind out of me. I take too long to recover. I'm trying to get back up at the same time. My senses are overloaded.

Pain erupts in my rips and I find myself staring at the sky. I'm looking up into the malicious blue eyes of Cato. His sword is raised, the bloody point facing me.

He makes a movement. I flinch and scream. Burning pain erupts in my stomach. I'm frantically kicking and screaming. I throw my arms up over my face and neck. I can't think, can't breathe, and can't even fight back.

He digs his foot into the fresh wound in my stomach. I scream again. I'm crying now. Crying from the pain. Crying from fear. Crying because I know this is how it's going to end. I don't _want_ to die.

He stabs me again and again.

By the fourth stab I've stopped screaming but the tears are still running down my face.


	12. District 6: Female

District 6: Female

I'm afraid for my future. Will I survive today? Will I make it past the first hour? I'm fearful because I feel like I'm staring death in the face. With twenty-three other people to compete with, do I even stand a chance?

I notice I'm fidgety as I stand on the platform. My fingers play with my hair out of nervous habit. These past few days my stylists had my hair up in elaborate designs that I would never have attempted. Now, however, I sport them in pigtails with other hair ties to create a bubble-type pattern. It is a more common look back home in my district. It brings a sense of tradition from home to me. District 12 has braids, we have pigtails.

Memories of my Mother brushing and pulling my hair into the style with her shaky hands came to me then. I could always tell when she needed another pill by the way her hands shook. My Father, on the other hand, got angry when he needed another dose of the pain killers. The drug affected each person differently.

The gong rings as I'm lost in my memories. I stumble forward and run with the rest of the gathering crowd. People are running in all directions. But the majority runs into the brewing chaos.

A yellow sleeping bag catches my eye and I aim for it. Everyone is making a mad dash for the weapons and limited backpacks. I choose to go for the smaller items in the hopes of slipping back out without much trouble.

That is my goal; to stay out of trouble. I don't want to die yet. I was afraid before, I'm terrified now.

I pass a pair of tributes fighting over bread. I watch as one tribute kicks everyone he passes. I watch a girl get grabbed by her hair and thrown to the side.

One moment I'm running, the next I'm falling to the ground. A knife has embedded itself in my side. I foolishly pull out the source of the pain. My side erupts in severe pain now that it is exposed to the open air. I place my hand over it, hugging my side as warm sticky blood oozes through my fingers.

There is so much blood. I'm bleeding too much too quickly. I know this is _bad_.

I'm panicking. I can't stay on the ground like this: exposed, vulnerable, and wounded. I _need_ to get up. I _need_ to run for safety.

But I can't. The pain is terrible. I'm shaking from the blood loss. I'm woozy, my eyes unable to focus on anything for too long.

Someone, another frantic tribute, runs over me and steps on my hand that covers the wound. A flare of pain is the result. I cry out in pain. I'm too loud and attract too much attention.

"You have something of mine." A voice says from behind me. The sound is defiantly female, too high pitched to be male.

I watch as an arm reaches over my face and picks up the blood soaked knife in front of me.

"P-please!" I beg, not having the strength to look up at my attacker. I want her to spare me. _I don't want to die! _Not like this!

"Sure." The voice replies in a long drawn out way. Hateful sweetness in every syllable.

Suddenly the lights go out as pain erupts in my neck.


	13. District 7: Male

District 7: Male 

Sixty seconds. That's all I get. I was told to run, but I know I won't. I'm pleased to see the arena. A forest; the closest thing to home I know of. District 7 is lumber and this boosts my spirits, I know I stand a chance now. If I can get in and grab an axe, then victory is surely mine.

The gong rings and I run as though hell itself is at my feet. I need to get there, grab the axe, and get out. That's my plan.

Others arrive before me, but I still manage to get my hands on a neon green backpack. I see a small rack along the walls of the Conucopia. Spears, swords, and axes are hung up on display. The only weapon I care for is hung higher up on the wall, just out of my reach.

I'm on my tiptoes, arms stretched, and my fingers gripping open air. Out of the corner of my eye I see something swing in my direction.

With quick reflexes, I jump backwards to distance myself from the incoming object. I'm lucky I saw it when I did. It's a spear and on the other end of it is a tribute with murder in his frightened eyes.

In a type of blind fight-or-fight response, I grasp the spear just before the blade and shove it into the tributes ribs with all the strength I can muster. I caught him off-guard and he doesn't react fast enough to resist. He stages backwards as he gasps for breath. His grip on the spear loses and I take it from him.

With the weapon in my hands, I flip it around so that the point now faces him. With another quick thrust I open a wound just above his lung and he cries out in pain. Another thrust and the spear is freed from his chest. He collapses to the ground, breathing heavily, and clutches his wound.

He looks up at me and I look down at him. It's only now that what I've done registers. I just stabbed him. I fixate on the blood oozing between his fingers, his heavy wheezing breathing, and the glassy look in his terrified eyes. I've killed this tribute.

I look at the bloody spear in my hands. I'm disgusted with myself. I thought I could do this, but now it's real and I'm not sure. What would my parents think? This boy could've been anyone. He had a life; friends, family, the whole nine yards. I just killed someone's somebody.

But I know that this is the only way for me to survive. And I want to live.

With a firm grip, I swing the spear over my head and into his lungs. I bend the upright spear towards me and then pull out, making the wound bigger. Blood gushes out of his wound, a sight I will never forget. I hope it kills him quicker.

Tuning away from the dying tribute, I use the end of the spear to knock the axe off its hook. I toss the spear aside and pick up my desired weapon.

The axe is made from a lighter metal. It feels feather light in comparison to the axes we have back home. However, this doesn't surprise me since the gamemakers want anyone to be able to use it.

Without looking at the dead tribute at my feet, I run. I know that at this point I'm supposed to run away to the safety of the forest, but something tells me to fight more. With the axe in my hand I feel a surge of power, a sense of superiority over the other tributes. Again, I'm certain that victory is as good as mine. So why not pick off the weaker tributes now? I'll have to do it sooner or later in the games anyways. Why wait to do such terrible deeds? The sooner the games end the sooner I can go home and forget them.

I notice a girl stumble past me. She's gripping her shoulder. I notice the look in her eye, like a frightened squirrel who fell with their tree. I see blood between her fingers. I already recognize her as an easy target.

If I don't kill her someone else will. The gamemakers keep track of our kills and sponsors only choose tributes with high kills. I'm going to need sponsors if I want to get home.

I swing the axe at her open ribs. She yells in pain before tumbling to the ground. She is nothing like the other tribute. Her heavy breathing is mixed with moans of pain.

"Don't!" She pleads. Her voice is vulnerable, scared, and desperate. Her voice catches me off guard. The other tribute didn't beg. I freeze with the axe still in my hand and dripping blood. _Her blood_.

The same thoughts come back. I'm unsure if I can do this. I know the capital is watching. My District is watching me. More importantly my family is watching me kill more than just trees.

I take off running again, knowing that this time I just can't do it. That wound is deep. She's lost a lot of blood. She'll die eventually.

I don't want to do this anymore.

I'm running to the forest, but up ahead a female tribute is running towards me. With a savage swing, she stabs me in the ribs and pulls her weapon out as she continues to run. The result is a painful, deep and long gash.

I keep running, slower than I did before. If I can make it to the forest I might be able to do something.

I'm running, but breathing is painful. I'm running, but my vision is cloudy. I'm running, but my body feels heavy.

I fall with the weight of the green backpack crushing me. The axe slips from my hands. I'm not able to run anymore.


	14. District 7: Female

District 7: Female

My mentor Johanna advised me to play to my strengths. No other woman has won from my District and I doubt I'll be the second. I scored a lowly three from the game makers after all. Johanna think's I'm doing what she did, pretending to be weak to hide my skills and then coming out on top.

Only she doesn't know that is not my strategy. I don't have any skills that will help me win. I don't have a strength to play. I don't stand a chance.

I can't survive in this forest. I know I can't. District 7 handles lumber. We cut down the forests. We don't live or coexist with them.

I don't know how I'll feed myself and the supplied food in the Cornucopia looks tempting. I don't know how I'll make shelter, but I can see a tent kit next to a crate. I don't know how to fight, but I look at the silver weapons provided. Running to the Cornucopia may be my only chance at surviving. And that's only if I make it in and out in one piece.

I have a minute to choose. Run away with nothing and no option to win or take the risk.

I choose to take the risk.

Everyone races for the Cornucopia. I'm running with them. All of my attention is on getting there.

Suddenly someone grabs me by the hair. It happens in a blur. I'm shaken violently before being thrust out away from the tribute. I stumble, unable to catch my balance. I fall, hit the ground hard, and then continue to roll.

My elbows hurt, but I make myself get up. I kick the ground a few times, stumbling to stand, before I take off running again.

I run past a blond tribute. I don't think anything of her. I didn't notice her sword.

A large weight comes out of nowhere, screaming in my ear and knocking me off balance.

The world blurs as I tumble to the ground. A weight presses down on my chest, making breathing difficult. My sudden panic does not help my brain command my eyes to make sense of the world around me.

My lips are trembling and I am unable to utter a sound. I want to say something, anything even. I want someone to hear whatever my last words will be. Somebody needs to hear me! People need to know that I lived! I know I'm going to die, I know I'll be replaced next year, but I don't want to be forgotten!

But I can't get the words past the lump in my throat. I can't even scream.

I'm able to make brief eye contact with the female tribute before she starts to stab me in a blind rage.

I finally manage to scream not once but twice before the pain no longer matters.


	15. District 8: Male

District 8: Male

He warned me. I tried to see his reasoning, I knew he was right. He had a valid argument. My stylist even warned me. They both said that I needed to think. That I shouldn't run into things blindly.

But the strategy worked for me. It got me through the interview and the training. I thought I had done well in both, so why fix something that isn't broken?

I considered it. There was so much to gain after all. I'd be a fool to not consider all of my options. I know the stakes are high, and I did give them some thought before making my final decision.

The gong rang and I make a mad dash for the supplies. I'm not the fastest, but I'm also not the slowest either.

My hand closes around the strap of a backpack in a frantic grip. I'm scared, my thoughts are a blur, and I forget to grab a weapon. My thoughts are on getting a life supporting backpack and then getting as far away from the other tributes as possible. I'm not able to think the extra step ahead to consider grabbing one of the several weapons left on display.

I have what I need and the hardest part, getting out alive, comes next. I begin running again. Adrenaline pumping through my veins as I watch the fighting explode all around me. I was slow before and the strain of running with the heavy backpack weighs me down. I'm still running, but I'm slower than I was before.

Something suddenly pulled me backwards, choking me for a moment. A thin cool object touched the bare skin of my next, and then sudden pain shot throughout my body. Breathing burned and I began coughing up blood.

It all happened so quickly, there was no time to react. My slit throat drained me of my energy; I wasn't able to fight against my attacker.

I was so close, and yet my games are already over.


	16. District 8: Female

District 8: Female

The tube lifts me up higher, eventually placing me on the platform in the middle of the arena.

I'm shaking uncontrollably, like a frightened squirrel, and just hope that nobody notices. I only have sixty seconds to get my act together.

I'm not ready for this. Thousands of thoughts are swimming through my head right now. I can't sort through them all.

Do I run or do I fight? Is it worth the risk? Who is a bigger threat? What is my strategy? Where do I go from here? There are still so many decisions that I've yet to make.

A minute isn't long enough. I'm not ready. I won't _ever_ be ready.

The gong rings and I sprint with everything I have. In in a race to the Cornucopia. I'm slow, too slow. Everyone starts to run ahead of me. I try to run faster but just can't get my legs to work hard enough.

Suddenly I find myself falling. I must've tripped over one of the smaller prizes. I'm sitting there on my hands and knees; stunned by the sudden fall. I'm on the ground too long. Much longer than I should've been.

Someone takes advantage of my weakness and kicks me as they pass. I let out a small yelp of pain. This just takes up more time. I begin forcing myself to get up. I stagger for a couple of steps until I regain my balance. Once I do, I start running again. My hands sting from the fall but I ignore them as I run.

Fighting has already broken out. A girl stands over another girl and stabs her in a savage rage. A boy drives a spear through another tribute's chest. A girl targets people to throw knives at. And all the while there are a handful of tributes who are running in an attempt to escape. Some are lucky, others are not.

I refuse to leave empty handed and chose to test my luck. I made it this far, so why give up now? Maybe the odds are in my favor. I can only hope so.

I spot a yellow backpack and choose to go for it. It's now or never; the more time I waste the higher the chance of me being noticed and attacked.

I grab the strap and, using the momentum to my aid as I spin around, throw it over my shoulders. Now I make a mad dash for the forest. I'm behind all of the other tributes, I can't afford to be slow now. My lungs burn but I keep pushing myself.

I run past the fighting and now work on putting distance between myself and the other tributes. I'm still running for the cover of the forest. My breathing is heavy and my legs feel numb now, but I still push onward. I need to get there.

I'm just entering the cover of the foliage that the forest offers. The worst is behind me and I need to focus on where I'll go from here.

I pause to catch my breath and afford myself a look back at the Cornucopia. Several bodies are scattered across the grass and the careers are fighting the last of their victims. They'll start organizing their supplies next and probably won't start hunting until later tonight. I have time on my side once more.

It's only now that I realize how fortunate I really am. I could've easily been one of those dead tributes scattered across the grass. Left lying there like a broken rag doll.

But by some miracle I made it out alive.


	17. District 9: Male

District 9 Male:

A gong rings, the mines scattered around our feet are disarmed, and I run. I run for all I'm worth. My lungs burn, I'm a lifter not a runner, but I keep moving. I don't reach the Cornucopia before the chaos erupts though.

In the mist of chaos I spot a backpack, bright and reflective orange, several feet from the main stash of supplies at the mouth of the Cornucopia. I run for it, I'm tied with another tribute. I recognize her as the girl from District 12, the one with the high score. I don't let go though, I fight against the fear, and I struggle to keep hold. I'm lost in my fight with the girl; I neglect the rest of my surroundings.

Splitting pain erupts in my back. It suddenly becomes hard to breathe. The vital function begins to sting and burn. I cough, spraying more than just spit. I let go of the bag, unable to keep a grip.

The tribute staggers backward, utterly horrified as I begin to collapse.

At first I'm staring at her face, spattered with little droplets of blood. _My blood_. Then I'm face first in the rich soil, blades of grass cushioning my face. I watch that tribute's feet race for the forest as my body turns to an icy numb. My vision slowly begins to fade as I gasp for air but only continue to cough up more blood.

My last thoughts are about my poor judgement. _ I should've run away_.


	18. District 9: Female

District 9: Female

From the moment I'm raised up onto the platform, I know I'm not ready for the games. Back at the reaping I thought I might have a chance, a slim chance at that but it was some hope to cling onto. Right now, however, I know I don't. The hope is gone and a thick dread has filled its place.

I look over to my district partner and can tell that he's getting ready to run. Perhaps I should do the same? It might be my only chance; to get to the Cornucopia before the other tributes do. If I can do that, then I maybe I have a shot at survival. I'm a fast runner; I might be able to make it.

I sprint as soon as the gong rings. I run fast, but others soon run ahead of me. I arrive at the supplies along with the rest of the crowd and after the careers have reached the weapons.

Fear suddenly paralyzes me as I watch the carnage beginning to unfold.

I watch as the tribute from District 1, whom I recognize as Glimmer, viciously stabs another female tribute. I watch as blood spatters and soaks the earth under my feet as the other tributes begin to drop like flies around me.

Panic sets in as I become aware of how vulnerable I really am. How foolish I was to run into this. I realize how my strategy will be the death of me.

I don't want to stay out in the open anymore, but the forest to my back and front are too far away. I'll never make it across the wide open field without being spotted by someone faster than I.

I duck behind a crate and try to hide. My breathing is heavy, too loud. I cover my mouth with my hand to kill the sound. I breathe long deep breaths through my nostrils and try my best to calm down.

If I can stay hidden back here, maybe I can escape when the careers go hunting later. Again I foolishly cling to some kind of hope that I'll be safe.

It isn't long before someone discovers my hiding spot.

"Found one!" A distinctly female voice shouts from behind and I scream as a hand grasps my long amber hair.

In blind panic I try to stand and run forward, but my attacker is stronger and holds me back. I grab their hand that holds my hair and dig my nails into their flesh. I try to break skin but my nails are too short; freshly cut and shaped by my stylist to not be a bother. I wish he hadn't, I might've been able to use them as a form of defense.

Hot pain explodes in my shoulder and then my lower back. I scream in agony as my attacker continues to stab me.

My grip begins to loosen and my attacker lets me fall to the ground in a bloody heap.

My body aches; the fresh wounds sting with a vengeful rawness before turning to a heavy numbness. Breathing burns and my breaths come in shaky gasps. Everything seems fuzzy and my eyes feel heavy.

Eventually, after what feels like a painful eternity, my vision fades completely and my breathing comes to a slow stop.


	19. District 10: Male

District 10: Male

They have us stand there for a solid minute before they begin the games. The pressure on my leg is uncomfortable and I try my best to hide the discomfort from the other tributes. They already know I'm weak, my leg has marked me as an easy kill, but I'm not eager to die.

I don't need to look at my leg to know that there is no possibility for me to win, but that doesn't stop me from hoping. I refuse to run into the arms of death. I'm going to try and fight to live, just like I did on the day of the accident. I was lucky once, I might just get lucky again.

I know my strategy, run away and hide for as long as I can. With any luck I'll be able to outlive the other tributes. I know that the Careers will pick off the other tributes and then turn on each other. If I can remain hidden long enough, maybe they'll forget about me. It's a naive hope, that I know, but it's the only thing I'm able to hold onto. I'm full of naive hopes and wishful thinking.

But a part of me has faith in my own abilities and skills, even if the Game makers didn't. Unlike many of the other tributes here, I understand hunger and pain. I know what it feels like to live with unyielding pain and how to function with hunger.

My family back home is large, too large in fact. My siblings and I have never relied on regular meals; we just eat when the food is available. And after the accident, when the Peacemakers threatened to punish me for not fulfilling my job, I learned to manage the pain in my leg as I returned to work on the ranch.

The gong rings and while the other tributes race for the Cornucopia, I try to limp away as quickly as possible. Every step is a process; my energy is devoted to getting one leg in front of the other.

Eventually I reach the edge of the forest and begin to fight my way through the foliage. I've made it past the bloodbath, my chances of survival are much higher now.

But that was the easy part, now comes the real challenge: run, hide, and stay alive.


	20. District 10: Female

District 10: Female

My District specializes in livestock. Men and women from my District work on the ranches day in and day out. So it's only natural that many of us are strong from the work. My father owns a ranch and had me and my siblings help run it. I thank him now for all the days he had me out at the crack of dawn. My work has given me strength that the other tributes do not have.

I look over to my District partner, the boy with the crippled leg. Our Districts victory in these games does not rely on him. I know that he will not be the victor here. How can he? With a leg like that he doesn't stand a chance. I know that these games are mine.

I know that as soon as the games begin I'm running for the Cornucopia. I've slaughtered animals that I've raised since birth on the ranch. I know that this is no different. These tributes, especially the ones from the wealthier Districts, the ones who have never worked a day in their lives, they're the real animals. That's how I have to view them. I can't let my morals get in the way now.

I take off running as soon as the gong sounds. I'm angry to see the other tributes run past me, but I know I'll get my chance.

I'm running to catch up and to try and get ahead. I'm so preoccupied with just getting there that I don't notice another tribute, a girl with golden hair, running from the Cornucopia with a gleaming silver weapon. She holds the weapon out at arm's length and swings wildly in some sort of frenzy, an odd mixture of hesitation and determination. Almost as though she wants to kill but doesn't want to get her hands dirty.

I manage to slip past but I pay the cost of momentary survival with an injured shoulder.

Instinct tells me to grab the wound and apply pressure to stop the bleeding. I cover my shoulder with my opposite hand and continue to run, pushing forward for survival. The fresh, warm, sticky blood oozes through my fingers and begins to run down my wrist. I try to ignore it, but it seems almost impossible.

The word is a swimming haze in front of me. I'm injured, vulnerable out in the open, and panic begins to sink in. I forget about the weapons and supplies, I need to escape!

I blindly ran ahead, aiming for the woods past the Cornucopia now. Again, I'm absorbed in getting to the shelter of the forest ahead that I ignore the surroundings around me. I don't see the tribute with the axe until it's too late.

Pain exploded in my ribs and I stumbled to the ground. I let go of my shoulder and gripped the deeper wound in my side. The pain was terrible.

I look up and see my attacker standing over me. I don't notice anything in particular about him though, I'm too busy staring at the silver axe in his hand.

"Don't," I plead weakly. The only thing I don't want to do is die. I continue to put pressure on the wound but nothing seems to be helping. I dare not look at my shaking hands, but I can feel hot blood covering them.

The boy freezes, the bloody axe in his hand remains in his tight grip but he isn't attacking anymore. I can tell he's terrified. I can tell that he's horrified at what he's done.

He suddenly takes off running and leaves me laying there on the ground.

Once he's gone I look at my wound and wish that I hadn't. It's deep, too deep for me to do anything about it. And there's just so much blood. I've never been sick at the sight of blood before, but it has never been my blood specifically. Now it is and I feel sick from the sight. I want to pull my hands away from the wound, but something about the pressure gives the illusion that the pain isn't as bad.

I know now that I won't survive very long now.


	21. District 11: Thresh

District 11: Thresh 

I think – No. No room for doubt now. I _**must**_. When the gong rings, I'm running to claim my share. I will fight to survive.

I don't need to think of my family to know that I have a reason to live. I must survive, not just for me but for them. I must return home. They depend on me, my sister and my Grandmother. Especially my sister; she can't lose me too, not after our parents.

I steal a quick glance at Rue. Not only is she the youngest, but she's easily the smallest tribute too. I know I can't allow myself to feel too sorry for her though. She can't be the victor if I'm to return home, the games simply don't work that way. I know she doesn't deserve whatever fate she meets in the arena, but none of us do. She isn't the only twelve year-old victim of the games and I know she won't be the last either.

I glance at the other tributes as well. Some stand prepared and ready for the gong that signals the beginning of the games, while others are clearly terrified and dread the signal to begin.

I'm prepared to run.

Our sixty seconds of safety end as a loud gong signals for us to begin. I take off running; all of my strength and energy go into getting me there as quickly as I can. I am determined to fight.

I'm not the first to arrive, but I still manage to snatch a backpack and weapon while they lasted. Other tributes are arriving too and they run around trying to grab whatever they can. Some have even started to fight, the beginnings of the blood bath.

I grab what I came for and then start running again. I don't waste my time with the other tributes.

I know I could take them in a fight though, but I chose not to. I had declined the career's alliance for a reason. The fact that they wanted me meant that they viewed me as a threat. But I don't approve of their alliance. The way they speak of the Games, the way they throw the words "Honor" and "Glory" around sickens me. There is no honor in these games; there is no glory in killing another human being.

I refuse to allow them to change _me_.

Still running as fast as my feet will carry me, I sprint for the tall grass near the lake and the forest. I know I will have an advantage over the other tributes there.

No one knows grassy fields like District 11 does.


	22. District 11: Rue

District 11: Rue

Seeder told me what I had to do. She made it very clear to avoid conflict at all costs. She didn't have to tell me twice though. My skills consisted of running and hiding. Not to mention the fact that all of the other tributes out match me in height and weight. They were stronger than me for sure, but I'm also quick. I know I can outrun them.

I look over to my right and catch a glimpse of Katniss, the girl from District 12. She's prepared to run, more than likely towards the Cornucopia based on her aggressive position. She keeps looking over at that boy from her district, the boy that liked her.

A gleaming object is capturing light on her jacket, but I'm too far away to see what it is. Her token maybe?

I reach for my necklace and feel it under my shirt. It's still there, tucked away safely. It's familiar woven grass string and skillfully carved wooden star calms my nerves just slightly. From everything in the Capital to this arena, I'm glad to have something that reminds me of home.

The gong rings and the games begin. I sprint with all my might, but not towards the Cornucopia. I run for the safety of the forest. Along the way I manage to snatch one of the smaller prizes away from the main pile of supplies: a water skin.

As soon as the forest conceals me, I stop running and begin to climb up an old oak tree. Every ounce of my energy goes into getting myself up to higher ground. I worry about water skin that I stuffed in the pocket of my jacket as I climb, I worry about dropping it.

Once I'm hidden up in the tree top's leaves, I stop briefly to catch my breath and take a look at my surroundings. Looking back towards the Cornucopia for a moment, I'm able to see the end results of this year's bloodbath. I'm too far away to see their faces, but I can see several bodies scattered about. A smaller group, the careers, still stands; just like every other year.

I decide to keep moving and start working my way through the trees, but I soon stop again as something bright catches my eye.

A bright red backpack is sticking out in a bush. I take another look back and see that the Careers are heading off in the opposite direction. No one else is around either, so I take the risk and climb down to snatch the bag.

I throw it over my shoulders and begin to climb back up. When I'm safely hidden again I begin to go through its contents; an extra pair of pants, a pair of socks, and a neon orange t-shirt. No weapon and no food.

I put my water skin inside, zip up the bag and then throw it over my shoulders. When I'm ready, I start moving through the trees again. I need to get some distance between myself and the Careers.

For the first time since the games started, I'm actually happy because the bag isn't entirely useless. I can carry food and other supplies now. I have a chance at survival; I just have to avoid conflict like Seeder advised.

I guess the odds aren't entirely against me after all.


	23. District 12: Peeta

District 12: Peeta 

I should focus on what's ahead of me, but I don't. I'm practically staring at Katniss.

She looks prepared to run, but not away as Haymitch instructed. I thought she would've listened to him, but it looks like she has her own plan. Not that I can blame her, I don't really plan on listening to Haymitch much either.

Suddenly, I catch her looking over at me. The look on her face asks the question, no words required. I shake my head, expressing disapproval for whatever risky plan she may or may not have. No matter how tough she is, I don't want to see her involved in the annual blood bath.

Seeing her standing there, ready to carry out whatever strategy she's devised, reminds me of how much she's changed since that rainy day so many years ago.

Not that I can allow myself to care too much. I just don't want to see her out of the game before it really begins. I know we can't be together, there can only be one victor after all. But out of all the tributes gathered here, I want to see her win. Even if that means that I won't.

She's still looking at me when the gong goes off and she pauses for a slight moment. I don't freeze like she does, instead I begin running. I lightly run a few feet in towards the Cornucopia, making it appear as though I'm about to run in with the rest of the tributes.

But then I turned around mid-stride, turning my back on the Cornucopia and the soon to ensue blood bath. With all of the strength I can gather, I sprint for the edge of the forest.

I only hope that Katniss is already several ahead of me, concealed and safe in the environment so similar to the one just outside our District.


End file.
